The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1887-03-11
"You had done better had you so held

yourself.
ooh, Granitl do not so speak to mel
Do not repulse mel" She Is still kneclng
beside him, trying do draw his dark,
sullen face TO look at her; and now she
takes his hand and holds It in fondlng
fashion against her bosom. He is once
more her child, her boy, her little one; ip
trouble and disgrace-in direst grief-and
to whom then should he come but to his
mother9 "My darling, why did you not
trust meY' she says in low, painful whis-
per. 81 would have given them to you.
/ could have managed In some way.
Yes--I would have given them.n
"They were not yours to give'-this
allusion to the stolen diamonds hardens
his heart again, though not toward her
"they belonged to Sir Thomas. How
ever''-breaking off savagcly and drag
ging his hand roughly out Of hers-'it is
too late to dis uss what is over and done.
IL you have come here to maunder about
my crimes i warn you / will have none
of it,"
"No no. dear; not another word shall
be said" Going closer to him she tries
to press him into chair. "Sit down now
and let us talk of your plans" she whis-
pers soothingly.
"PlansSn He glances at her vaguely
as though he hardly understands; plainly
he has not been listening, Then sudden
ly his face fiushes; the veins swell upon
his temples Where is sheS" he cries in
vehement tone.
"She? Millicent"
"Pshawl No. She who betrayed me;
that fair devil, Nadine"
"She is down stairs. She has been very
i'll" says the mother trembling.
"Did hurt her? Did she feel2 Did she
t. al
is fierce agony in it. al hope so.
Great heavensl how that girl lied to me,
though her lips uttered no falsehood.
She gave herself to me; she swore she
would marry me, caring for that other all
the time. Did you mark how she shrunk
and covered away from mep How she
paled, and glanced at me as though perdi-
ton lay in the sight of meY'
He is glancing over his mothers shoul-
der toward the opposite wall. His eyes
are dark and wild; he is gazing at some-
thing. That past scene in the library is
again before him-is again being enacted
brought to light by his disordered fancy.
"Granit, think OF something else, inn
plores his mother, in frightened man
ner. His voice, his gestures, terrify her.
"From me she shrunk-to turn to himi
How her eye Lit as she saw him! To him
she cried for protection from me! She
held out her arms to himl She clung to
himln His breath Is coming in painful
gasps "There was alteration in the
glance she directed at him Ts gain such
glance l would have died. WellN' he
stretches out his arms and then he clasps
his head, because Of such a glance
have died. She has slain mel"
Grant, my poor boy, do not talk so
wildly. Forget this girl; think now Of
what is the best thing for you to do"
81 have thought of that-that is all ar
ranged"
His tone is impatient.
"Where are you going, darling'" she
asks family.
"Nowhere."
His manner is dull and listless.
Grouse yourself" entreats she, "you
arranged all. Tell me, then, where you
are goingl''
"a long Journey"
"Long journeys nowadays can be COM
passed in a very little while"
"That is true. Mine will be the short
est passage on record" he draws his
breath sharply. "What happened to her,
when leftS'
"She tainted. Mr.. Duran
keep his name out Of it, can't your"
interrupts he, violently. "Go onl She
tainted. Well, what them"
"They had considerable difficulty in re-
covering her, have been told. l was not
there" says Lady Valworth, nervously.
"She was naturally good deal upset by
the whole affair. l suppose you fright
| ened her."
"You say hurt her."
ho,,
the wall. You did not mean it," hastily
-"but when one is agitated as you were,
one hardly knows what one is doing.
| "You" anxiously-'must not take that
so much to heart; you did her no real
harm. You must not be uneasy"
| "Take it to heart? l wish 1 had killed
| herl' The words come with hiss
! through his clinched teeth; his face is
| white and distorted with passion. "That
| she should live, and live with him, is the
CALLING thought; that is more than l can
bear. How her little white fingers fast
ened on his arm! Liar that she isl how
she deceived and ruined me! Body and
soul she has destroyed"
! "Oh, not your soul, darlingl There is
| time-repentance."
| "There is very little time now and am
unrepentant."
| He throws up his head and points to
the window. The lamps in the room are
waning, and through the closely cur
tanned window the first streaks of coming
morn are stealing with persistency that
will not be denied. Day is breaking, anG
with it his mothers heart. The crue
light will tear him from her, will carry
| him-whither?
"You have not told me where you are
going" she says, pressing her han6
| against her heart to still its throbbing.
| 81 can tell no one that"
| "What! not your mother? Grant, dS
not fear, l will betray YOU anything yor
say to me now will bo sacred. Tell mt
where it is you mean to 60"
81 cannot
| "But why-whyi''
"For the simple reason that / dom
know myself" There is curious CLEAN
in his eyes that disturbs her and maker
her forget the fiippancy of his tone. "I
is to II strange land l will wend my way
before the day is very much older
stranger in strange landl My reception
will be cold one, or perchance q no
one"
| He laughs wildly. His merriment is
however, shortlived, breaking off almos
as it began, and ending in a disma
silence.
"You are thinking Of Africa" says hi
mother, trembling, she scarcely know
why. "lf you still refuse to let me know
exactly where you are going, at leas
promise you will write to me. Grant
my dear, dear son, promise me that"
81 will promise you anything you like
though doubt If you would care to keel
up the correspondence" There is some
thing terrible in his manner, which ma